The Bluebells Toll
It is spring and the Bluebells toll
As a crimson red sun crests the horizon
The morning dew rests like tears upon new blades of fresh green grass
The last pearls of white snow, have drifted away
Replaced by golden yellow daffodils, now shivering in the breeze
The silver bark of the birch tree, curls, and falls
To join its rotting brown leaves, shed in late autumn
It's part of nature's life cycle, the fat pink worms proliferate
The world turns, the sky darkens and nature rests in the black of night
Footnote:
This poem started life as a fire alarm, I find it strange how this re-evolved so fast, for when looking back, you see how quickly the four seasons have passed.
The same could be said of this poem, one minute it's appears to be a difficult challenge, and, in a flash, you've reached your pre-set target of eight colours, but you feel frustrated because you have so much more to say.
YOU ARE READING
Why? PoetsPub 2021 Achievement Hunter Challenge
PoetryCompilation of submissions to @PoetsPub Summer 2021 Challenge.
